Breathe In
by screaming-poetically
Summary: I keep the bedside lamp on not because I’m too lazy to turn it off but because I want to memorize every detail of his body this one time. FlackLindsay, missing scene from A Dangerous Plaything.
1. Lindsay

**Title:** Breathe In  
**Summary:** FlackLindsay oneshot. I keep the bedside lamp on not because I'm too lazy to turn it off but because I want to memorize every detail of his body this one time.  
**Disclaimer:** The names of all characters contained herein are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.  
**A/N: **I'm writing this fic on request. I hope you all like it. Oh, and the title is named for a Frou Frou song of the same name. I highly suggest you listen to it, it's very FlackLindsay.  
**Rating:** M

**Breathe In**

"_And I'm high enough from all the waiting to ride a wave on your inhaling.  
Cause I love you, no. Can't help but love, you know."  
-Frou Frou_

I'm in the lab now, drinking some sort of toxic waste that Adam tried to pass off as coffee. Don left my apartment before I woke (he's Don now, how could he not be, after last night?) and now I'm here. Here, I can quantify things. I can know things are certain. Now I know nothing for certain and while the little girl part of me wishes I had never come to New York, wishes I had just stayed in Bozeman, the mature part knows I have to stick this out. Mac is here and when he sees I've come into the lab before my shift starts he asks me why.

I turn to him and say simply, "Last night I did a terrible thing."

"We all do terrible things," Mac replies.

I say thanks and he nods, leaving me to my thoughts and awful crime lab coffee. I sit morosely at the break room table and I know Danny will be in soon, and I think maybe he already knows what happened last night. Oh God. I hope he doesn't tell anyone. I wish I could find something good about what I did last night—there was pleasure, and that's good—but Don was drunk and I wasn't. I should've been a better friend. I feel bad for using him that way, and I feel bad about him using me. He thinks I don't know about how he feels but I do and that makes it worse.

I remember the sensations he roused in me—heated urgency warring with delicious lassitude—and I feel my body respond, even in his absence.

I let the memory wash over me.

After that first clumsy kiss I cling to Don in the backseat of the taxi, drowning in his kisses, the ones that taste a mixture of Sam Adams and him. Suddenly he's using his tongue and I really have to try to gain my balance because if I fall now I'll never get back up. I won't want to.

When the taxi stops in front of my building I pass the driver a fifty (something I'll regret later; I've overpayed him) and reach for the door. Don grins absurdly and tells the driver to wait a moment. He climbs out of the taxi and shuts the door again, and I worry. I worry until he blows his warm breath onto the window, creating steam; he then draws a little heart inside and says, "How about that, Monroe?"

How about that, I repeat to myself.

If I didn't know better (and I do) I would say that I fell in love with Don in that moment, so proud of his artwork that he sits down on the sidewalk just looking. I get out of the taxi and help Don to his feet but now he's kissing me again and I hate myself just a little bit for kissing him back. I don't know how long we stand there but when we part we both gasp for breath.

"I belong to you," he says, and I know then that Don doesn't realize what he's doing.

We're at my door now, fumbling our way inside my apartment. As soon as the door closes behind us he pins me against it. Don's resting one hand on my hip, fingertips dancing lightly on the exposed skin, the other braced against the wall above my head. His eyes have gone from a delightful deep blue to a dark cobalt, focused hazily on my own hazel ones. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. Don shouldn't be having this effect on me. It was never supposed to be like this.

I can tell before he even kisses me that this one will be different from the urgent kisses shared in the taxi.

He draws closer to me and I let out a rush of breath, opening my eyes and—Oh Lord. His mouth descends on mine with little grace, full of only need and desire, and I hesitate a moment before returning his affections with a wild abandon neither of us had expected. After we part, what I want to do is take a steady breath but it comes out a moan instead when Don tangles his hand in my hair and presses his mouth to mine again.

It's like being underwater. Water kisses filling my mouth, water filling my soul. I'm drowning in him and right now I couldn't care less.

As we move around my apartment I hear a lamp knocked off my desk and a pictureframe crash to the floor. It doesn't matter, really. Those things can be replaced, but not these moments. Never these moments I'm sharing with him now. We part for a few moments, gasping for breath.

"This tie's mine," he says, stupidly, drunkenly.

"It's very nice," I reply, taking off my sweater.

Don looks reflectively down at his tie and says, "It's my property."

For a drunk man he has surprisingly little difficulty in taking his tie off, and I admire his skill, but I'm more surprised at what he does next.

"If you wear it then you're my property too."

He loops his tie around my neck and tugs me into a kiss and I don't object. We make our way lazily to the bedroom, discarding clothes as we go. I had told myself that I've had sex before but even this one drunken time with Don is a thousand times better. There's feeling here, genuine care, and I've never had that before.

I keep the bedside lamp on not because I'm too lazy to turn it off but because I want to memorize every detail of his body this one time. He's beautiful with scars and bruises covering his body like some strange latticework and that's when I decide to play at loving him. I know I'm not a person of faith but, clinging to Don tonight, covered in a sheen of sweat and barely able to breathe, I keep moaning to God and, in the end, I think maybe I've found Him again, if just for a moment.

---

"Lindsay?"

I nearly drop my coffee cup, I've been so lost in the memory of last night. I turn and it's Danny, and by just that one look in his eyes I know he knows.

"What?"

"You're wearing Flack's tie."

Oddly enough I'm not horribly embarrassed. I'll have to find some offhand way to give this back to Don. Or maybe I'll just keep it. I think that's what I'll do.

_finis._


	2. Flack

**Title:** Breathe In  
**Summary:** FlackLindsay oneshot, Flack first-person POV. I've never found myself so willing to let go of a memory yet so unable to get it out of my head, and I now see myself not wanting to let her go.  
**Disclaimer:** The names of all characters contained herein are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS and Alliance Atlantis. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission.  
**A/N: **I'm writing this fic on request. I hope you all like it. Oh, and the title is named for a Frou Frou song of the same name. I highly suggest you listen to it, it's very FlackLindsay.  
**Rating:** T

**Breathe In**

"_What part of no don't you understand, I've told you before  
To just get off my case this isn't happening, stop this now."  
-Frou Frou_

I keep waiting for the sky to fall. For something unusual to happen, because what happened last night has to be unreal. It can't have happened. I keep telling myself that but I keep remembering and it keeps becoming real. I tap my pencil idly on my desk and hope, pray, for a case to come in so I can have something to take my mind off of her. Normally I'd never wish death on anybody but right now I'm hoping somebody takes a dive so I can just have something, anything, to rid myself of the memory that has seared itself on my brain.

My cellphone rings and it's Danny. I groan inwardly. If anyone else knows what happened last night it's him and I really don't wanna know what he has to say on the subject. I debate answering the phone for two more rings and decide against it. Danny can leave a message or he can come get me himself. I have more important things to think about. _Oh, God._ I put my head in my hands. No, I don't. I don't have anything important to think about because there's nothing to think about, we were both drunk and nothing happened. Odds are she doesn't remember and I'll have to carry this memory to my grave and fuck, that hurts.

_I'm kissing her desperately, my tongue begging entrance to her mouth. She's untucking my shirt as I back her up against a wall and her hands explore me urgently. I groan into her mouth as she presses her hips closer to mine—_

Maka's talking to me but I'm really not paying attention. I can't get that night the fuck out of my head, it's all I can think about. I try focusing on everything but sex Lindsay danger or last night but I can't. I guess Maka deduces that I'm not paying attention cause she leaves and all I can remember now is my hands all over Lindsay and what it felt like to be inside her.

"Oh, mother_fuck_."

As much as I don't want to remember the larger part of me wants nothing more than to just close my eyes and let the heartache roll in, to just remember every moment. I've never found myself so willing to let go of a memory yet so unable to get it out of my head, and I now see myself not wanting to let her go. She's my downfall and I loved her first.

_She's clutching at my shirt as we kiss in her bedroom and suddenly she's using her tongue. She tastes of cherry and alcohol, or maybe that's just me, or maybe it's the both of us. Lindsay tangles her hands in my hair and I deepen the kiss and for the first time in years I find myself thinking, "Oh god oh god, what have I done to deserve this, what have I done?"_

I'm leaning my head against my locker and my eyes are closed and stamped on the underside of my eyelids is Lindsay, her and her flesh and the sounds she makes. I bet no one has seen her the way I did last night, not even her first lover. I know I can't have her—I'm not worthy, I'm broken—but last night was something we shared and for all of this I'm feeling strangely fine.

I know I'm lying to myself about being fine, but it's a lie I can live with for now. It'll catch up to me later, probably when I see her talking to Danny. She laughs so much more freely when he's around, hell, it should be illegal for them to be together just for the sake of it not breaking me down inside.

_Her flesh is rosy from the heat of summer nights and the flush of lovemaking. She looks despoiled, wanton, writhing up into my hips. So completely perfect...my Lindsay. If I'm honest with myself I know that no one has ever seen me so completely open and vulnerable; sex for me has always been about taking, but tonight with Lindsay I'm giving all of me. Heart body soul._

_"You're so beautiful," I murmur, brushing a strand of hair away from her face with my thumb._

I hit my locker and then there's Thacker and I hate him. I fucking hate him for looking at me like he knows me, like he knows what's wrong. He could never understand the way I feel now, an ache so deep that it cuts me open from the inside. Thing is, even if I could stop it, I wouldn't want to. And that's suicide. By tiny, tiny increments.

"You know, Flack," he says, "I don't think I've ever seen you without a tie."

Then I remember that part of the night and part of me wishes I didn't, because I think that's when I really, truly, honestly realized I wanted her for my own.

_"This is my tie," I say._

_Her hazel eyes look at me and they're soft; I almost feel like I could drown in them, and if I could, I'd want to._

_"It's very nice," she replies._

_"It's my property. If you wear it then you're my property too."_

_I take my tie off and loop it around her neck, tug Lindsay into a kiss and I'm lost in her. She's my sweetest downfall and I love her first._

The thing about last night is that even if it's something she doesn't remember, I do. For a few hours she was mine and I knew what it was to be whole. I am flawed but I am cleaning up so well, she's slow spinning redemption that mends my broken soul and even if she doesn't realize it, together we'll be whole again and there's nobody who will hurt her.

I could tell people that this love hasn't changed me, hasn't changed me at all, but that would be a lie. This love isn't good unless it's me and Lindsay.

_Finis._


End file.
